Paul Nelson

Gaudeamus

Now I too, am within, amber.

Within where the last glacier scrapes all in its way.

Slides past pheromones (a strange but brief attractor) polishes.

Here is the thicket where the dense work of ancestral excavation occurs;
who was the ancestor engineer worked for coolies, who
the seed in the mouth blocks the tongue from proper
function as the heart's outlet, a colony of ants be
damned (amber?) the honey stuck in the rock
the cat hangs on the ledge seeking entry.

I seek entreaty (José'd say súplica) a dragonfly I learned won't hassle
humans but in a dream might mean swiftness, summer, re-
generation, unreliability. Here is where memory fades in
its place a more raw urge almost stays in confines culture
may have made for it. I watch from above, notice how
the lungs swell with each breath, grateful not to be under
water, the breath deep seemingly only in morning &
from here there is an odorless aura (I see them he sd),
and they were billowing from our places on the stage.
This is worth nothing. (Nothing) but there is a process
enacted (isn't that what self is she asked she who was
not watching the pot boil. She who was content to ever
move inwards. Clean the hospital floors. Abort twins.

Not near the point of leaving, still, moving inwards.

Higher yet, above the mechanic chop of another helicopter I see
in the era of global climate disruption the robins no
longer a reliable sign of Spring, will scotch broom
(gorse, Charlie says) be late? How the woodfrogs,
How the connection made via animal eye ovoids
(How the ancestors work (sometimes) through meat
intermediaries how matter's bent for our passage. No officer, I did not know I was going 80. I did not
see the no left turn sign. My tinted windows are no
reflection. My father's rage was stird by stellar forces.
Mother driven by the hunger moon.) When I notice
the dragonfly, the lungs are full, I could be whistling
Monk, the taiko has almost stopped reverberating
in my eardums, my cuticles can wait.

5:31P – 2.10.09

Saint Francis of Assisi

He (reborn again as a bag lady with riches who keeps soap scraps) feeds
pigeons in Seward Park.

He (she) calls, they come quick, eat well, shit all over the Audubon Center
now when some nature is better than others.

He (she)'s a vegan now, (no, pescaterian) knows the best buys of soy
chorizo, cheap organic beets, a holy diet in this age between
ages. (Age of the great breakdown.)

God's blessed him (her) w/ pace e bene yet again and again it man
ifests as a flash page to pitch animal communication, loves
chatting up Granny & the other Puget Sound J-Pod, loves
the sassiness of Snake Chief, the bee diva tells him they're
really fed up with celphones and ALL THAT NOISE.

Yes, she (he) loves the astonished fish on the surface of the miracleof seas yes, enjoys an occasional unagi or fish taco, wd bring
a fresh batch of lima beans to the prisoners but against regulations
though a soft spot in his heart (her's) for folks doing TIME.

He loves starlings (beyond all common sense) / watches their October
show, much prefers them over the psychotic maneuvers of Blue
Angels (the only angels she'd despise if capable of scorn but that
he (she) lost in prison tho took her (him) four years to get it, still

the beatitude remains fertile and horizontal, but there's something in its
gold & ochre sheen reflects the best of that hidden in the seeming divinity of faces like the wet eyes that mark the true
human.

How otherwise contact higher forces seek the spiral out the material
realm other than jinn invocation, other than another
surrender?

Poor Francis (Frances?) she could have been a star meteorologist, sees
the weather changing more than in the slight arthritis of her
aging bones. Starlings told her storms are coming, & that no one
needs a ladder in this unprecedented age
of wings.

11:41A – 4.2.09

Of exaltation

The latihan approaches. I am not even there yet Sister! I declare, have youseen the like? The heart announces its arrival. Dia de la
corazon. Domingo. Seeking dominion. One as the other.
The mirror image recalibrated (adjusting the mechanism
of perception.) The way rain falls over Georgetown. She
says fog will lift (her pinkened eyes in rain after laughing.)
Reflections of reflections of some shimmering jewel we
each are and are connected to. Ramon's here. Soon a
reason for crows roosting in the thousands. Easy breakfast.
Strength in numbers. Warding off predators. "To ward off
disease" Pop sd defending his belly. He breaks down now
like Dorn did. Now a lifetime of grief settles in. Seeks
escape. No mourning the little deaths when the big ones
are motherfuckers of diphtheria, cats and older brothers.
Motherfuckers of being the one HE put his holy finger on
& decided survival. Mother of mercy save me. Dominion.
He who brings his child into the latihan. Mercy… She who
cleans the cat urp. Reminds me of the architecture of
divinity. Dominion. The fog always lifts. "All I want to
know is will you come with me." Prepare for latihan. A
takeoff. An athletic event. Yes. A decathlon with the
Divine. Here she is an experience. He is a diver. I'm a
chipped cup loving the overflow. He's not wandering
in circles saying "Horseshit. Horseshit." It's worship
and here is Spring. Here is a daffodil late this year
sticks out of last night's snow. The women start. Some
are high-pitched, some we can not hear. Sometimes
eyes-closed I stand under a beam of light, wish to
bathe myself in illumination. It's a light bulb. Sometimes
dominion has a laughing face like last night's late snow
or the crows in the trees off 15th NW. Some of them. To
die in snow and cold burning the tires does not work.
Heat-seeking machines can cut through trees just like
humans. To give heat is within control of every humanbeing, she said & washed floors waiting for better
weather. And the world remains forever fixed (filled)
he says. Everything in its place in the waterwheel
wondering where the lions are. Wondering what
propels that exalted flow.